SasuHina Drabbles
by Fairheartstrife
Summary: Short stories, drabbles, one-shots and ideas revolving around Sasuke and Hinata. Warning: My brain tends to wander to dark and/or perverted, so these are rated M for a reason. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_Stay the Dawn_

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><p>Fingers clutched fabric, hair, skin.<p>

Breaths broke in ragged exclamations of love, lust, want and need.

Please...

Now...

Harder...

More...

_Always more._

Never enough. Not for them.

Hair was pulled, lips bitten and bodies chaffed with near desperate urgency.

They had so few moments like this, when it could just be them and nothing else. No one else.

One was a missing nin—wanted and hunted—and the other forbidden by family rules from engaging in anything more than civility and protocol, bound by duty to a village she betrayed with each touch and whisper.

This wasn't like her. She lived within the confines of those rules. She was bound by the chains of duty, honor, heritage, loyalty...

Except, he broke her rules. Forced her to feel, to see, to need. _Him._ Only him.

And it was enough in the moment, but never enough to sustain them.

Morning would end the illusion.

Morning would find her alone on the mat and single flower on her pillow.

Morning was their enemy, and together they fought it with the sharp thrust of hips and the lingering traces of tongues to skin. Eyes closed, bodies clenched, they willed back the dawn for as long as they could.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: warning for non-con and dub-con. _

_Break_

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><p>"I have no love for Konoha." The words were soft spoken, as though commenting on the weather, but beneath them vipers of malice slithered and Hinata felt her fingers tremble against porcelain.<p>

He always arrived the same way—in a breath of shadow, silent and watchful—announcing himself with a soft threat.

Feigning a calm she did not feel, she lifted her tea to dry lips and waited.

The wait was not long.

Chill, his fingertips stroked the nape of her neck, revealed by the bun she'd taken to wearing. He was less inclined to pull the dark strands if they were tucked in place...

Hinata closed her eyes when his breath fanned her ear. Carefully, she set her cup to saucer. There would be no reprieve for her tonight. Sometimes she feared there never would be.

"No love for this village or the fools that seek to protect and defend it while simultaneously inviting it's demise."

"N-Naruto...loves you," she found herself whispering.

"He's an idiot."

She closed her mouth. She had learned, with painful lessons, that his opinion of Naruto was not up for debate or question.

Purposeful, his hand slid beneath the silk of her robe to stroke soft, bath-water damp skin.

She fought the urge to ask him why he did this, because he never answered. No matter how she had begged or pleaded or fought, he never answered and never softened.

The first time he'd waited and watched her—willing her, she sometimes thought—to break. And she had, if only that first time, he had shattered her and shown her how defenseless she was, how powerful he was and how little she could do to change things.

He left her there, on her bed, shaking and weeping.

When he returned less than a month later, she had cried then too, but she didn't break.

And again, the following night and the next week.

By the sixth visit she'd stopped crying.

By the twentieth she'd started leaving her window unlocked. It did little good to keep him out, after all.

Three months after his initial attack, he asked her: "Why don't you tell anyone? Do you enjoy me so much?"

A harsh breath and a bitter denial lodged in her throat, but instead she replied with the one thing even he had no defense against. The truth. "I won't tell, because you want me to. I will not be the reason Naruto attacks you, or is distracted. I will not endanger my family or my friends. You can use my body, but I will never be your bait."

It was the most she'd ever spoken. The firmest she'd ever sounded. It was as defiant as he let her be.

Smirking, he had simply inclined his head and agreed, he _would_ use her body.

There was no limit, she found, to the darkness in him. He enjoyed watching her writhe in pain as much as he did pleasure. She preferred the pain.

Because sometimes, when he was slow moving and his lips lingered and the pleasure crested, she wanted to break all over again.


End file.
